


Surely Heaven Waits for You

by imissmywings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little bit of Sastiel too, Angst, I think they're at a point in time where, M/M, Purgatory, don't worry the next chapter will be super smutty, season 7, they'll take whatever love they can get, they're all just so touch starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:35:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imissmywings/pseuds/imissmywings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and Cas are laying low for the next couple months after Dean and Cas get out of Purgatory. Castiel decides it's time to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surely Heaven Waits for You

I sat on a rickety chair in the corner of the motel room, across from his bed, a glass of whiskey in my hand. There he lay resting on his stomach, hair sticking up in various directions, black t-shirt and black boxers. His back rose and fell evenly, the night completely quiet except for the familiar sound of a car passing every now and then, lights casting shadows on the wall through the blinds. He looked innocent, lips pouting with his face resting on its side, seemingly peaceful, but I knew that wasn’t true. Dean was always in a state of half-awake, always alert, waking up every couple hours to check around, check that his little brother was safe, (but careful not to wake him) before going back to another dreamless sleep.

My mind went back weeks, months earlier. Right after he came back. His face was pale and grim, jaw set and eyes sunken in. The aftermath of the year he spent in Purgatory, shouting himself hoarse and losing his mind, killing anything in sight that couldn’t answer the question, “Where’s my angel?”

The year I spent in Purgatory, hiding in thick woods, fighting back tears when every couple hours Dean’s prayers entered my head. They started out as angry rants (I’m gonna kill you, Cas, when I find you, if you aren’t already dead, you goddamn son of a bitch), to exhausted, absent thoughts (Cas, I’m tired and it’s fucking cold, and I wanna go home. I wanna see Sammy. Why hasn’t he found me yet? Wouldn’t matter anyway, I can’t go back. Not without you), to broken, desperate, sobbing pleas. I love you’s and I miss you’s and I need you’s that were never mentioned when he came back home. 

He’s been getting better. He eats regularly now, a little healthier. Sam and I have gotten him to drink more water, sleep a little longer. His freckles are reappearing, hair no longer growing in random silver streaks. He still aches all over, from stress, from exhaustion, from exertion. Although at first he fought it, I tried to touch him whenever he was within my reach. I slowly began inching myself towards him, sitting closer, standing closer. Absently I would set my hand on his back, his shoulder, the base of his neck. At first he would flinch at the touch, back stiffening and on edge. After a while of slowly dragging my fingers in circles across the expanse of his back, he loosened up. 

It wasn’t until weeks later that he became comfortable with it, even expected it, and I realized how touch starved he was. He would nearly purr into my touches when I rubbed his back, arching to reach my hand, hanging his head and leaving his neck exposed. Little moans would escape from the back of his throat every now and then. I would keep a hand on his arm when I stood next to him. My fingers brushing the inside of his thigh under the dinner table. Play with his hands absently while he watched TV. 

In my mind, I justified it with the knowledge that Dean needed to be touched, needed to know that he was worth that, he was worth his own pleasure and someone else’s admiration. He was worth being touched and looked at. But to be honest, I couldn’t bear to not have him under my hands. Knowing that he couldn’t be taken from me when I was close, I stayed as close as possible. I ached for him when I was alone. I couldn’t help but hope that he felt the same, that in the deepest, calmest hours of the night when he was alone, that he would think of me and my image would fill him with bliss.

Now what I’ve done. I’ve ruined him. I sat back in the creaking wicker armchair and took a swig of my whiskey, ice tinkling as it fell towards my lips. I took an ice cube into my mouth and sucked on it, setting my glass down as I stood up. It was time for me to leave. 

I moved as quietly as I could across the room, knowing Dean could feel that I was moving around, but not knowing what my intentions were. I took my duffle bag off of the top shelf of the tiny motel closet, sharing a wall with Sam’s room. I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and slipped off my black dress pants, trading them for a soft, worn blue button-down and a pair of avocado green cargo pants, previously belonging to Dean. I rolled up my sleeves as I treaded quietly across the room to the bathroom, gently swinging the door almost-shut behind me, flipping on the lights and giving myself a last look in the mirror. I still looked fucked out. My lips were red, kiss-bitten and spit slicked, hair sticking up wildly, dark circles under my eyes. Bite marks and red and purple bruises were scattered across my neck and chest, standing out from my pale skin. 

I was drained. Not just emotionally, or physically. My grace was draining every minute. Purgatory had ruined me in ways that I didn’t care to think about, but I could no longer call myself Angel of the Lord. I wasn’t quite a hunter either. I scowled at the face in the mirror, flipping the lights off and walking out. I paused as I reached Sam’s doorway. After a moment of debate, I turned the knob and pushed slowly in.

Sam lay sprawled diagonally across the top of the bedspread, stature too large for his bedframe. He wore a grey v-neck long-sleeved shirt, black plaid pants. I smiled as I stepped closer to him, his mouth hung open and his arms were displaced, one resting on his stomach and the other tangled in his hair.

“Sammy,” I gently rubbed my hand over his. “Sam.” Sam’s eyes shot open, instantly leaning forward to a sitting position. I put my hand on his chest and eased him back down, whispering calming words as he instinctively whispered Dean’s name into the dark. His hands covered mine, still resting on his chest, and worked their way up my arm as he sat up slowly, one hand on my shoulder and the other on the side of my neck. “Cas?” he whispered uncertainly. In the faint light I saw his eyebrows knot in confusion and concern. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

I set my hand on his neck, likewise to him, and stroked my thumb over his jaw. “It’s time for me to go, Sam.” I pulled his head towards mine and rested my forehead against his, closing my eyes, still thumbing over his neck and jaw. 

“Cas, we need you. Dean needs you. I need you. I can’t handle Dean by myself, he needs to be with you, he needs-“ I cut him off, leaning my forehead back from his, a small ‘Shhhh’ came out of my lips and my other hand came up to cup his face, thumb running over his bottom lip. Sam looked at me mournfully, lip trembling and eyes on the brink of tears. “Dean always said you had a face you would pull when things weren’t going your way. He called it your puppy dog face.” I smiled in a spite of this, rubbing my thumb across his lip, a small sigh escaping from Sam. “I have to say.. you do look quite like a puppy right now, Sam.”

Sam let out a choked laugh, breath hitching in his throat as tears spilled from his eyes, a sad smile splayed on his lips. “Cas..” I shook my head, willing him not to cry. 

“Everything is going to be alright. It’s my time to go. But, Sam?” I looked at him, hoping he could see how sincere I was. “You are strong. You can do this. Tell Dean I love him, okay?” I paused and smiled at Sam, tears of my own filling up my eyes and blurring my vision. “I love you both.”

Sam nodded quickly and let out an audible gulp, brushing his thumb over the side of my face. I reached my hand up and set it on his side, pulling him forward and giving him a quick kiss, his lips soft and wet from tears against mine, before leaning up to kiss his forehead. Sam let out another small sob before turning away, wiping his tears with his fist balled up in the sleeves of his t-shirt. 

“I love you, too, Cas.” I stood up from Sam’s bed and Sam stood alongside me, pulling me in close, my face buried in his neck. It was comforting. I saddened as I realized that this wasn’t something I would get to have again for a long time. As I pulled back, I nodded once more to Sam and turned away. 

I left his door slightly ajar behind me, treading softly over to Dean’s bed. He was curled up on his side, small whimpers coming out in sighs, shifting slightly in his sleep. I slowly lowered myself onto Dean’s bed, curling up facing him, my hand coming up to brush his face. 

“Dean. Dean, baby, wake up.” Tears spilled down my face as Dean opened his eyes, face turning from alarm to confusion to a lazy smile as he realized it was me. I couldn’t let him see that I was crying. I leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, deep and passionate, but rushed. There wasn’t any time. There was never enough time. “I love you, De.” Dean grunted in response and tucked his head under my chin, drifting off. I petted through his hair, tugging a little to keep him awake a moment longer. “You hear me, Dean? I love you. Just… don’t forget that. Okay?” I looked down at the warm heap curled against me. “Yeah, sure thing, Cas.” Dean mumbled, tucking his head in and falling back asleep within 30 seconds. I slid back slowly, catching myself before I fell off the bed and straightened up. 

I quickly, quietly ran over to the closet and grabbed my duffel bag, walked to the door, unlocking and opening it before shutting it behind me. I knew my grace wasn’t going to last much longer, I was going to need a car. It was 3 AM, everyone should be asleep. I zapped into the nearest motel room, finding a young couple asleep in bed. I quickly glanced around the room: dresser, coffee table, sidetable drawer. There they were, under the lamp. I summoned the car keys as quietly as possible and zapped back outside. 

Shit. I looked down at the keys, fumbling around for any type of engraving, marking. Ah, Corvette. I looked up and scanned the parking lot, finding a black corvette parked 4 spaces down. I walked over and unlocked the car, looking around as I crawled in. I half-hoped Dean would come bursting through the door, scanning the parking lot and finding me, rushing over and yanking me out me the collar. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Cas. You hear me? Not ever again.” Dean would say. But he didn’t. He didn’t come crashing through the door, he didn’t come looking for me. He didn’t notice that I had crawled out of his bed. He wouldn’t until the morning. It’s for the best, I reminded myself.

I turned the key and the car roared to life. I checked my rearview mirrors one last time, seeing Sam standing behind his window, peeking through the blinds. I gave a sad smile, which he returned. “I’ll be back,” I mouthed to him. He nodded and turned away, blinds falling shut. I backed out of the driveway, pulling out of the parking lot and speeding off down the highway. “Perhaps in the next life.”

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One is from Castiel's perspective  
> Chapter Two is from Dean's perspective  
> Chapter Three is from Sam's perspective
> 
> going to try to get all through chapters up before the season 9 finale on Tuesday!


End file.
